


Cigarette Ash

by TheManSings



Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManSings/pseuds/TheManSings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian share a smoke in the van and Mickey get's a bit hot and restless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cigarette Ash

“Is it weirdly hot in here?” Mickey readjusted his shoulders for the 20th time in the past 10 minutes. Ian blew up smoke rings toward the roof of the van. “I’m really fucking hot. It’s really hot right?”

He let out a laugh and turned his head to face the now scrunched features of the wriggling man next to him. “I’m comfortable.”

Mickey let out an annoyed sigh and grabbed for the joint hanging from his mouth. “’Course you are.”

It was one of those night that Ian thought every shitty thing he’d been through in his life had been worth it. Like the middle of a tornado – everything was still flying around outside and breaking his limbs but right here in the van with Mickey they were alive. Scratched and bloodied and bruised, but alive.

Since as long as he could remember the van had been plopped in the middle of their backyard. It was decrepit and rusted and most likely a health hazard but still it provided a false sense of getting away. When Lip had found out Ian was gay – van. When Carl decided that he was getting the short end of the stick from the family – van. When Frank was dying and homeless – van.

When Mickey stalled after work lingering in the storeroom with his jeans still unbuttoned and looking at his feet mumbling about not wanting to go home – van.

“If you’re so hot take off your sweatshirt.”

Mickey darted his eyes toward him. “You’d like that wouldn’t you.” He would.

But all Ian could do was give him a lopsided smile and turn his head back toward the ceiling. He was a little warm actually, but that could have just been the weed talking. Mickey rolled around a few more times before sighing and trying to secretly slide his arms out of the fleece encompassing him.

“You wanna crash here tonight?” The words sort of fell out of Ian’s mouth before he could think them threw and he cringed. Mickey’s arms falling bare skinned now because he was only wearing a tank top and Ian _really_ wanted to touch him. Wanted to beg him to stay because they could sleep in the van and no one would bother them and he’d never admit it but he hadn’t felt this relaxed in months.

“Yea maybe.”

He choked on the smoke he was holding in his lungs before regaining his composure and feeling a bit like a dick for his obvious shock. “Really?”

Mickey reached out blindly across Ian’s stomach searching for the pack of cigarettes he’d thrown over there sometime before the third round they’d had and after the first.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself.” He plucked a Marlboro loose and Ian focused every bit of energy he had on not convulsing at the feather light touches. Once he gave into one shiver he was done for. “My dad’s on a bender and—“ Mickey lit up and breathed in the nicotine before exhaling with every word. “I don’t really feel like getting the shit kicked out of me tonight so—“

It was supposed to be casual, fuck it _was_ casual. He wanted to slam his fist against the metal side and scream _fuck Mick you’re getting beat? We need to do something about it_ but who was he kidding. He couldn’t muster up the strength for something that Mickey himself didn’t really care about anymore. It’s not like Ian hadn’t had his own nose broken from one of Frank’s particularly violent moments.

Sad, it was all simply an inconvenience.

So he didn’t say anything because Mickey wouldn’t have wanted him to, he just reached over and plucked the cigarette out of his lips and laughed at the snarl he got in return.

“The fuck Gallagher?” An arm snaked back to reclaim what was his and Ian turned his body over to the opposite side cackling at his dodge. “You’re fucking serious right now?”

Most people would have been raising their white flag but god damnit he was just having too much fun.

Mickey clamored onto his stomach now for leverage and dove his hands under Ian practically ripping the skin at his cuticles. Pleasure and pain were two sides of the same coin for them and Ian kinda loved that Mickey never went easy on him.

“Get your own.” He smirked and switched the stick of tobacco to his hand to raise above his head while Mickey used his body weight to pin Ian’s chest in place.

“That _is_ mine!” Mickey huffed out and looked down now biting his lip in that way that Ian had finally realized wasn’t intentional.

He looked him directly in the eye and smirked. “Finder’s keepers.”

 

The impact of the kiss that came after that was so sudden so _hard_ Ian thought for a second that Mickey had punched him. His head spun because the van reeked of sex and weed and cigarettes and Mickey was making the first move – then a thought collided hard into Ian Gallagher’s head that Mickey had _always_ made the first move.

He scrambled to wrap his hands around Mickey’s face and pull him closer because he wanted to make the move this time. He wanted to devour him and become him and ---

“Shit—“ Mickey pulled back and breathed a ragged breath like he’d been underwater for 10 minutes. “Fuck Gall—“

Ian moved to tangle his fingers in the black hair and yank him back in. A smile forming on his lips when he felt how liquid and willing the body on top of him had become.

Teeth pulled at his bottom lip and he gasped as it went right through his entire body. His blood rushing faster and faster with every sigh Mickey let escape his throat.

Ian loved that, because Mickey spoke volumes without ever needing to say a word and that was absolutely fine with him. In fact, he preferred it to the constant banter in his house and incessant need for explanation. He’d take the snarky Milkovich curling his tongue around his to say _I need you so much_ than him trying to spit out the words any day.

Sometimes there was nothing left to say.

“Take this off.” Mickey’s words were a breathy hot whisper as he pushed at the tshirt Ian lay wearing. Hands skittered across his stomach pushing it up and away but the lack of contact even for _seconds_ made them shudder in agony.

The shirt would have to stay because something important was happening.

Ian dragged his tongue lazily through Mickey’s mouth wanting to taste every part of him. His entire body reacting when he was greeted with a whimper of pleasure and Mickey pushed himself impossibly further into his skin.

If anyone had walked past the van, he wouldn’t have been shocked if they only saw one person. They’d never been this close before, this much wanting to dissolve and disappear into the other. Every inch of flesh met with a counterpart and _god_ he could die right now. He would willingly die from a lack of air just to keep kissing him.

He’d always thought that anything worth dying for, anything truly fucking beautiful had to be a bit messy. Because passion was raw and rawness was red and mangled and sensitive and he winced when their teeth clashed together but felt himself grab at Mickey’s skin harder for more contact.

And Mickey returned the favor splaying his hands against the side of his face while panting and grinding and wanting _more_.

It might have been that they’d already fucked three times since they first flopped into the van, it might have been that he was too high to think to move onto a next step – it might have been a lot of things but all Ian wanted was for Mickey not to stop. Just –

“Don’t stop.” He ground out as the lips claiming his traveled to his neck and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. His mark.

Mickey liked leaving marks and Ian had never been more willing to let someone. He liked dragging his fingers across every shadow of remembrance when he was alone and closing his eyes to pretend that it was Mickey who was constantly touching him.

Because his touch burned and reminded him that this was all real. Fevered _definitely_ but not a dream.

“Fuck.” His eyes flew open and Mickey just licked and massaged his lips in a way that was goddamn professional. “Fuck!” He wriggled away and Mickey sat up now panting heavily a look of absolute confusion cloaking his features.

“What the fuck?”

Ian pushed him off and Mickey tumbled hitting his head against the back of the passenger seat in the front. “Jesus fuck Gallagher--

“Shit Mickey the cigarette!”

Mickey looked over to the spot where Ian was now frantically patting at and laughed louder than he had in a while.

They’d goddamn lit the place on fire.


End file.
